Matt's Journal
by AlchemyOtaku0922
Summary: These emotions keep building up inside of me, and, if I don't find a way to get rid of them, I think I'll go crazy. So, I'll write down my life story, all of my memories with Mello, so they're down on paper instead of stuck in my head. MXM ON HIATUS
1. Entry 1

**Authors Note: Hey guys! I hope you all enjoy this new story! I've worked really hard on it. Tell me what you think and please enjoy!**

How did I get here?

So I'm sitting here, _alone_, in the bedroom that we used to share in our tiny, cramped apartment. The tiny part doesn't bother me, it's the alone part. In fact, I never told Mello this, but I've always secretly _loved _this apartment. He always complained about how small it was, but I always thought it was the perfect size to fit just the two of us. Plus, it's the first place Mello and I owned together, which gave it more sentimental value.

Oh, God, I miss him.

But, the point is, I _had_ loved this apartment. Now I hate it. It holds too many memories, so many reminders of my blonde-haired angel. There was the numerous chocolate wrappers scattered around the empty apartment that I hadn't managed to clean yet, the video game systems he had bought for me (which, there were a lot, considering he always complained about how much I played them), and the holes and cracks punched into the wall during all of Mello's mad fits of rage. Too many memories, all too hard to take.

Wow. I even miss his anger.

_Dang it! _I shouldn't have listened to him! I shouldn't have wore that stupid bullet-proof vest! I should have died along with him!

I don't even know why I'm writing all of this down. I know no one will read it.

Maybe it's to keep my sanity. These emotions keep building up inside of me, and, if I don't find a way to get rid of them, I think I'll go crazy. So, I'll write down my life story, all of my memories with Mello, so they're down on paper instead of stuck in my head.

So here's what happened: Mello, being the obsessive, competitive perfectionist he is-sorry, _was_, he came up with a plan to capture Kira by kidnapping his spokesperson, ultimately accomplishing his goal of defeating Near.

Why had beating Near been so important to him anyway? Had it really been worth his life?

Of course not.

Mello had told me I needed to be the distraction, so that when he took Takada, the police would be chasing me, not him. I know that may sound selfish of him, but it's not. The guards that went after him were a lot tougher and more dedicated than the police that hunted me, so, really, he was in more danger than me. I knew from the start that he was more likely to die.

"No," I immediately declined. "If we're going to go through with this, I want to be right next to you during it."

"Matt, you can't be with me," He argued. "If you don't do your part, the plan won't work."

So, of course, I agreed. After all, I couldn't disappoint Mello. I knew how much it meant to him, and I could never disobey him. Never have. But, now, I wish I would have been more persistent. I should have insisted that we had to do it together, or not at all.

Or maybe that wouldn't have mattered. I mean, really, what would having me with him have changed? Could I have stopped what happened? Probably not. So why do I feel so guilty about it?

"It will be fine," Mello promised. "I have Hal helping, too. Nothing bad will happen."

"Then why am I wearing this vest?" I asked stiffly.

"So _nothing bad will happen_." He reiterated, emphasizing his point with a kiss on my forehead.

"What about you?" I whispered, my voice cracking with sudden fear.

"I'll be fine," Mello promised. "Stop worrying so much."

But I did, and I had a right to.

The most difficult moment was when we had to leave for our separate missions. I knew, in the back of my mind, that it would be the last time I ever saw Mello. I knew he knew it too, because before he left he wrapped me in his arms and held me tightly. Gently, he whispered, "I love you, Mail Jeevas."

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I didn't make an attempt to hide them from Mello because I knew they were safely hidden behind my green-tinted goggles. It wouldn't matter if they hadn't been, anyway, because, at the moment, I didn't care how weak I seemed, I just wanted Mello to forget the crazy mission.

"I love you, too, Mihael Keehl." I whispered back.

After he pulled back, his arms still wrapped around me, he surprised me with a sudden kiss. It was long and passionate and during those few moments, I never wanted to let go. I wished more than anything that I could have frozen that moment forever, just the two of us, as the rest of the world melted away. I didn't have to worry about the problems of our past, Kira, or Takada. All that mattered at that moment was Mello and I.

Abruptly, Mello pulled back. He stared longingly at me for a few moments while I silently begged him not to continue with the plan. I knew it was no good, though, because once Mello had his mind set on something, there was no changing it.

Hesitantly, Mello let go of me completely, telling me one more time that it was going to be okay before starting up his motorcycle and racing towards his death.

As I watched his back grow smaller and smaller, I thought over his words. _"It's going to be okay"? _I sighed sadly. "You're such a liar." I mumbled to myself, the words falling flat on my lips.

So I followed through with plan, just going through the motions, my body stuck on Earth but my mind lost in another place, a place where Mello and I could just be together, without the stresses of our extraordinary lives.

I shot a smoke bomb to create a veil of smoke around the area while Mello took Takada, and I drove off, the police starting after me. I dodged them for awhile, but was eventually cornered. I willingly exited my car, my hands up in surrender. I had already known it was going to end like this.

It was only once I was outside that I realized how many police cars there actually were. At least twenty-five.

And yet, despite the amount of police, or the fact that I was probably going to die, only one thought was running through my mind: Did I give Mello enough time? That was the only thing I cared about. This was all for him, after all.

And then another thought struck me: Mello was probably already dead.

"Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry such big guns?" I taunted, prodding them to shoot. "Okay, I admit it. I had something to do with this whole kidnapping thing. That means you'll have a lot of questions to ask me," I could see them readying their guns. I smirked. At least I would get to die with the one I loved."You won't shoot."

Suddenly, bullets rang out from all sides I was hit multiple times before I collapsed, hunched up next to my car. I allowed my limp cigarette fall from my lips, crashing onto my blood-soaked jacket. My vision went black before I passed out, and I allowed myself to slip into a pleasant place where I wasn't there, sorrounded by police, but with Mello. It didn't matter _where _we were at, just as long as we were together. I ignored the liquid that I _knew _was blood seeping down my skin, because I didn't want my last thoughts focused on something so gruesome, I wanted them focused on _him. _

And, as I slipped into unconsciousness, I knew I could die happily, because the last image that ran through my mind was Mello and I locked in a kiss.

When I woke up, I was laying down in a surprisingly comfortable bed, staring at white walls. For a second I wondered if I was in heaven, but quickly scratched that thought because I knew someone like me could never get into heaven.

I tried to twist my head to study my surroundings, but found it painfully difficult. It didn't matter anyway, because I realized exactly where I was once a nursed walked into the room.

"Are you feeling all right?" She questioned.

"What happened?" I demanded, not bothering to sound polite.

"The police were forced to shoot you when you resisted arrest after taking part in the kidnapping of Miss Takada." She explained.

It took all my energy not to roll my eyes at her. They had been _forced? _As if. I had come out of my car, without a weapon, with my hands above my head. They had no reason to shoot me. They did it because it would make it easier on _them. _They could just kill me instead of going through the whole legal process of actually _arresting _me.

"Well they obviously didn't do a good job at it," I snapped. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" The nurse's expression turned to shock at my words. Of course she would be surprised. I had gotten upset about the police _not _killing me.

Suddenly, a thought popped into my head.

"And what about the man who kidnapped her?" I questioned, holding onto a string of hope. "Is he…?"

"Dead," The woman answered, instantly cutting the last thread of that string. "His body was found charred in a burnt church, but the cause of death seems to be a heart attack."

I stared blankly ahead. There was no denying it after that, he was gone. But I refused to cry there. There's only one person who has _ever _seen me cry, and that was Mello, and I wasn't going to disrespect him by letting a complete stranger see me at my weakest.

The nurse shifted uncomfortably by the bed, waiting for me to speak again. I could tell she was nervous about being in the same room as a criminal. It almost made me laugh. She was scared of _me? _She must have lived a very sheltered life. She hadn't seen _half _of the things I had. I wasn't even the one who even _did _the kidnapping. That was Mello.

I miss that idiot so bad.

"What are you still doing here?" I growled at the innocent woman. She gave a nervous apology before gratefully scattering out of the room.

That night, I forced myself out of bed, although the pain was almost unbearable. I knew I had to get out of there before the police arrested me.

I forced the window open, easily picking the lock, and let myself drop the two stories to the ground. I grabbed my side as a rush of pain shot through my body. For the first time, I allowed myself to examine the wounds.

I had many bruises scattered around my stomach and chest, but a few of the wounds went deeper than that. Those were the ones that had been bleeding. The deepest one was the one on the side. It had opened up again after the fall.

I suppose the injuries would have been a lot worse if not for the bullet-proof vest, but at the moment I didn't care. I had been focused on finding my way home, even though I could barely concentrate on anything. My mind was too clouded with thoughts of Mello.

I wandered down the cold street that led to our…_my _apartment. The fact that I was alone made it even colder. Finally, I made it to the building and up the elevator to the right room. The whole time, no one questioned me, as if it was completely normal to see a man bleeding to death from a bullet wound, which, truthfully, in this area, it wasn't all that abnormal.

As soon as I took the first step inside, I collapsed on the tattered couch and cried. I cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. It's not fair. Sometimes it just seems like life is a one big, sick joke.

So that's how I got to where I am right now, sitting at this desk, wasting my time writing while I bleed. I suppose I _should _fix that up. Writing all of this down on paper did help me sort my thoughts and clear my head, and now I realize that I can't let myself die so easily. I have to keep fighting to defeat Kira and beat Near. I'll kill Kira like he killed Mello, and I will never let Near win. Mello deserved to be number one, not him.

So I need to clean up this wound and this apartment. I can't take seeing another reminder of Mello.

God, this place seems so empty without him.


	2. Entry 2

**Authors Note: Hey guys! Finally finished the next chapter! Hope you like! Thanks to Zellicy, crazycomedian, dramaq, xxbeyondxbirthdayxx, orgymoogle, and FantasyFreak1110 for reviewing the last chapter! Enjoy!**

I need to get out of here. The police will be after me and I'll probably be all over the news because they know that all of Kira's brainwashed minions will see me and would report me in a heartbeat.

They must have already discovered me missing, and I've already wasted too much time, seeing as how I've slept in too late in the day. It's already two in the afternoon. I think I took too many painkillers for the gunshot wound last night. That would explain why I'm so drowsy.

So where can I go? There's nowhere really safe. There are Kira followers all around the world. I guess I could go to America. There aren't as many there.

I kind of wish I could go back to Wammy's. At least it'd be safe.

Oh wow. Who would have ever thought I'd want to go back _there? _I had been so glad to get out. Ever since the first day I got there.

Actually, looking back on that day now, it makes me smile. It was the day I met Mello. I cried that whole day, but, through the tears, an unbreakable bond was formed.

I don't know what it was about me, maybe I was too small or too skinny or I just looked all-together weak (actually, I still look that way), but I was attacked within my first fifteen minutes in the orphanage. A group of boys ganged up on me and started beating me up.

Now, me, just getting out of an abusive household, was terrified that this place wouldn't be any better. I started crying, which just made them hit harder. It didn't occur to me to fight back because I was used to just taking it. Mello, however, would soon teach me otherwise.

"Hey!" His gruff voice quickly broke up the fight.

Like a pack of trained dogs, the boys quickly snapped to attention. From the first moment I met him I knew that Mello was not someone to be messed with.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mello growled in a way that made me wonder if it was only to scare them or if that was how he always talked.

"Just showing the new kid who's in charge." One of the boys answered.

Mello's eyes narrowed at the statement. "Well cut it out," He snapped. "You remember what it was like your first day, don't you?"

The boys nodded, but mostly out of fear than with actually agreeing with him. I don't think they even actually heard him, they just knew that you didn't argue with Mello.

"I better not see you messing with him again." Mello said. It seemed like more of a warning than a statement.

The boys nodded vigorously.

"Now get out of here!" He snapped.

The boys scattered away as quickly as possible, grateful to get away from the boy who, even at a young age, was already absolutely terrifying.

"Thanks." I told him, after I was sure they were completely gone.

Mello's head snapped to me. He squatted down so his eyes would be level with mine (I hadn't bothered standing up and trying to recover from their attack), allowing a glare to overpower his face in the process, making him seem all that scarier.

"Listen," He breathed, in a voice almost inaudible. "I helped you because I felt sorry for you. It _won't _happen again. I've been in your shoes, so I know what it's like to come here, alone, and feeling like everyone's against you. Now, the difference between you and me is that _I _stood up for myself, where you just let them hurt you. Let me give you a piece of advice: you'll never survive here if you're not tough, so you'd better _get_ tough real quick, or you won't make it one week." With that, Mello stood up, confidently turning and striding away. I couldn't help but stare at him. He was so confident and strong. I decided then that I wanted to be just like him.

That first encounter with Mello meant so much. I had never before met a person like him. He was so passionate, strong-willed, beautiful and _alive _that it seemed almost unfair that such a wonderful person even existed.

And you know what? It is unfair. It's unfair that God gave me such an amazing person in my life and then just took him away so suddenly. I can't imagine him dead. He was too full of life. Too vibrant and real. I actually used to believe that it was impossible for Mello to die.

I can't believe he's really gone.

After my encounter with Mello, I found that I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was stuck in mind. The way he had talked and carried himself was so arrogantly powerful that it was near impossible to forget him.

Once I found out Mello was going to be my roommate, I acted calm, but, on the inside, I was ecstatic. I was so fascinated with him at that point and I thought that this was going to give me a chance to get to know him better.

I remember waltzing into my new room, letting my suitcase drop to the ground, and sitting on the bed not occupied by Mello and his many textbooks, all the while trying to look as confident and self-assured as possible.

Mello's face showed obvious confusion. "What are you doing?" He questioned. "This is _my _room."

"Correction, _our _room." I answered, allowing a smirk to cross my lips.

His eyes narrowed in another one of his trademark glares and, knowing there was nothing he could do to change his situation, turned all his attention to his math homework, trying to ignore me.

At that moment, my soul was sold. My life became dedicated to Mello. I was with him 24/7. At first it annoyed him, but, soon, he wanted to be with me too. Instead of me having to chase Mello down after class, he would wait up for _me. _He would save me a seat at dinner. If anyone said anything bad about me, they would have to answer to him (needless to say, not too many people even dared to _look _at me the wrong way). And, somewhere along the way, we became best friends.

Now, Mello was never the one to show his feelings, but he didn't need to say anything for me to know how he felt about me. I could tell he cared about me from how he acted. I'd bet all the money I have that Mello had hurt every single kid in that house except me. Up until the day he died, he had never touched me in a malicious way. That was enough to let me know that I was his closest friend.

Of course, we were more than just best friends, but that didn't happen until later.

Mello and I have been through so much. He was the biggest and most important part of my whole life. What am I going to do without him?

There's no doubting we were close. He was the only person who knew everything about me, and I'm the only person who knows everything about him. I even knew how he ended up in the orphanage. At Wammy's, the children weren't really supposed to discuss our pasts, but Mello and I weren't really ones for following the rules anyway.

"My parents were killed," Mello answered simply when I asked. "Shot by some low-life just because he wanted their money," Suddenly, his voice became softer but more fierce, "He didn't even care that they had a son at home who was left all by himself."

"At least you have me now." I offered, trying to erase his suddenly solemn mood. It wasn't like Mello to get depressed_. _Anger I was used to, but not sadness. I didn't like seeing him like that.

Mello turned his head towards me and gave me a small smile. "Yeah. I have you."

I grinned, but it was quickly erased when Mello asked, "What about yours'?"

I gulped nervously. "My parents?"

He looked over at me curiously, noticing my voice had faltered. "Sorry…" He mumbled. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked…"

"No, no!" I immediately protested. "I mean, you told me! It's only fair that I tell you." I took a deep breath for continuing. "Sorry. I just try not avoid it as much as possible. I don't even like to _think _about it."

"Must have been pretty bad." Mello commented sympathetically.

"Well…my father was abusive," I explained. "He hit me and my mother. He tortured my mother to the point she was driven to suicide."

"Oh, Matt," Mello mumbled. "That's horrible."

"Yeah, well…imagine being the one to find her." I added.

"Oh my God!" Mello exclaimed. "Matt, I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right." I told him, not daring to look up. I was afraid that, if I did, he might see the tears welling up in my goggle-hidden eyes.

"I can't even imagine having to see my parents dead…" Mello practically whispered. His voice sounded far-off, as if he was in another world.

"Well," I continued, trying to pull Mello away from his own thoughts, because I could tell they were bad, "when I found her, I called the police and, when they got there, they saw the bruises on me and started asking a bunch of questions. Eventually, I broke down and told them everything. They took my father away and…" I could no longer take it anymore and my last words slipped out as sobs, "well, here I am."

Despite my best efforts, my goggles had filled with tears. I didn't want to cry in front of Mello, but I just wasn't use to talking about my parents. I had always pushed the thought of them to the back of my mind. I was so afraid of Mello thinking I was weak, but I was wrong. Instead of him yelling at me to suck it up like I expected, he actually put the book down, got off the bed, lowered himself down to the ground where I was sitting, and did something that I thought he would never do: he hugged me.

Like I said before, Mello didn't really show his emotions. He wasn't affectionate at all. That's why his hug meant so much to me. It just _proved _that he really, truly cared about me.

And that's the moment I realized I loved him.

I loved him, and I always would. I still do. I _love _him. Nothing will _ever _change that. Death can't change that.

Oh no. Someone's knocking at the door. The police couldn't have found me already, could they? The police are a group of idiots. There's no way. I just need to calm down.

No, it can't be them. It _can't _be.

God, I can't be arrested now!


	3. Entry 3

**Authors Note: Sorry it took so long to update guys! Thanks to Zellicy, orgymoogle, and someoneudontknow5 for reviewing the last chapter! Please enjoy this one! **

I am currently on a plane headed to America.

Obviously, I wasn't arrested. It wasn't the police at the door. I should have known. The police aren't smart enough to track me down so quickly.

I was surprised, however, about who _was _at the door.

"Near?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I came because of Mello," He answered, twirling his hair around his finger, which annoyed me immensely. Every trait about him suddenly annoyed me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Mello hated him. "I saw the news story. I knew that if you were a part of it, Mello must have been behind it."

"Yeah, well that doesn't really matter now, does it?" I spat angrily. "He's gone." How dare he even say Mello's name! That stupid albino twit had no right to even be there. I couldn't even stand to see his face. He had caused Mello so much pain throughout his whole life. Mello stressed himself out at Wammy's trying to beat Near, so much so that he would get sick. He caused Mello to leave me, because Mello had been so focused on beating him. He caused Mello to join the mafia, feeling like it was his only option. He caused Mello to become so obsessed with defeating him that Mello was dead now.

Mello risked everything to beat Near, and it ultimately cost him his life.

"What are you even doing here?" I hissed.

"I'm sorry about Mello," He told me, his face so full of sincere sympathy that it almost scared me. "I know how much he meant to you."

"What would you know about it?" I snapped. "You're the most cold, emotionless person I've ever met! You're almost not even human at all!" I was aware of how loud I was, but I didn't care. I was so overcome with emotions that I didn't care about anything.

"That's true," Near said calmly, despite the fact that I was acting as hot-tempered as Mello. "Usually I don't feel a lot of emotion, but I have always thought of Mello as a friend."

I almost laughed in his face. "_Friend_?" I asked him in disbelief. "You really thought you were friends? He _hated you!" _

"We may not have had what you consider friendship, but he was the closest thing to a friend that I've ever had. I've always thought of you both as my friends."

Me? Near thinks _I'm _his friend? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Near, but Mello hated you, so I do too.

"That's why I was worried about you," He continued, surprising me even more. "I know you loved Mello. I was genuinely concerned about how you would react to his death. It seems my prediction was right…"

"What prediction?" I asked, my anger rising. How can he come into _my _home, pretend like Mello was _his _friend, then act like he knows me well enough to predict how I'll act?!

"You don't look so well," He explained. "I'm concerned about your health."

I gave him a confused look, wondering what he meant, but then I figured it out. I took a good look around the apartment and realized that there were cigarette butts and empty beer bottles everywhere.

_Did those really all come from me? _I wondered. I guess I really had become a chain-smoker lately.

"What do you care?" I asked, not being able to deny his claims and say that I was fine.

"Like I said before, you're my friend," He answered. "Maybe you shouldn't smoke so much."

And you know what I did? I slammed the door right in his face.

He is _not _my friend and he can _not _tell me what to do!

But, thinking about it now, maybe I shouldn't have done that. I mean, his tone was as cold and robotic as always, but his actual words had more emotion than they've ever had.

So here I am, allowing myself to actually think about what he said, and, of course, it brought up memories of Mello.

I remember, when I first realized how I _really _felt about Mello, that I thought that it was all too much for me. First the abuse, then my mother's death, and now I was _gay? _I couldn't handle all the feelings that were swirling around in my brain, and I searched for a way to get rid of them, or at least block them out for a little while.

That's how my addiction with nicotine started.

I was twelve, and I had heard about this group of older kids at Wammy's who _always _had cigarettes (they sold other drugs as well, but I didn't want to get involved in all that). I found them and coaxed them into giving me some. They were hesitant at first, because I was so young, but once I waved money in front of their faces, they seemed to drop that concern pretty quickly.

Anyway, I started smoking, and it didn't take Mello long to figure it out. He _was _number two at Wammy's, after all.

"Matt!" His voice woke me from my sleep. Normally, I would be grateful that the first thing I heard in the morning was Mello's voice, but not that day. It sounded angry. Furious. You did _not _want to be around Mello when he was in a bad mood.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, trying to sound as fearsome as him. "It's six in the morning!"

"What's wrong with _me_?" He retorted. "What's wrong with _you_?!"

"What are you…" My voice trailed off when I realized he was holding a pack of cigarettes in his hand. My cigarettes. I sighed, preparing myself to explain, but, before I could start, Mello started yelling again.

"I _knew _it!" He shouted. "I knew you were doing something stupid like this! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You're going to wake everyone up." I told him quietly but fiercely.

"I don't care!" He continued, even louder. "And you didn't answer me! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't understand." I answered simply, making a grab for the cigarettes.

He pulled the carton back, making me stumble and almost fall off the bed. "How would you know?" He asked. "You didn't even try to talk to me!"

"Why would I talk to you about it?" I questioned, allowing my voice to raise a little as well.

"Because we're best friends!"

After that, it was silent. It was so quiet I could hear my own heart beating. We were both surprised he had said that. He had never called me his best friend before. I wanted to cry because it showed how much he cared about me. He was genuinely worried about me.

I knew I couldn't do that, though. I wouldn't cry in front of Mello. So, instead, I put on a smirk. "What? Are you worried about me?" I asked in a sarcastic voice. "Mello you sound like a girl."

Mello punched me in the arm, as to prove his manliness. "Shut up, idiot!" He yelled again, forgetting the silence that had just occurred a few moments ago. "I just don't want to watch you kill yourself!"

My smirk disappeared. I didn't have a comeback to that. I thought for a few moments before mumbling. "Then I won't do it in front of you."

He was quiet a minute too, considering this offer. He knew he couldn't admit how much he cared about me. At Wammy's you had to be tough to survive, you couldn't go around showing your emotions. Mello had taught me that on the first day. He couldn't show that he had any weaknesses, especially if that weakness was _me. _

Realizing this, he finally mumbled an "all right". Of course, I didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I smoked more and more, which meant, eventually, I started smoking in front of Mello. Whenever I pulled out a cigarette he would complain, but didn't try too hard to stop me because he reminded himself that he couldn't show he cared too much about me.

We wasted too much of our lives pretending we didn't care. Looking back on it now, it was totally pointless, but, back then, it seemed like the most important thing was to be as cold and unfeeling as possible. That was good at Wammy's.

Some people, like Near, stayed that way (at least, I thought he did), but, luckily, Mello and I were different. At least we _had _emotions. A lot of kids at Wammy's lost who they truly were. But I can't really blame them. They were trained to be the way they are.

Maybe it would have been for the best if I _had _turned out more like Near. I never thought that I would want to be like him, but, maybe if I was, I wouldn't be an emotional wreck right now.

At least my angel really is an angel now. At least he died fighting for something he believed in. Of course, those are just things I tell myself to help me get through it.

I miss him _so _bad.

He would always make excuses to hide the fact that he was worried. If I smoked in front of him, he would tell me to take it outside because he would breathe in the secondhand smoke, or that he didn't want it to smell like smoke in our room. He hoped that my laziness would be stronger than my addiction, and I wouldn't make the effort to actually go all the way outside. But I always did. I couldn't help it. I needed it so bad. And I hate relying on something like that, but I do.

Once, there was a horrible blizzard outside. One of the worst I've ever seen. The windows were frozen shut and the doors were barricaded with snow. When I lit up, Mello immediately snapped, "Out."

"Are you serious?" I asked him, looking out the window to the storm and then back at him, just to emphasize my point.

"As serious as a heart attack." He answered. I didn't mention that it was probably best not to say things like that with Kira around.

I stared at him incredulously for a few minutes, but, when I realized that he wouldn't budge on the issue, I sighed heavily and made my way downstairs.

When I opened the front door, snow piled in from outside. I mentally groaned.

I trudged through the deep drifts, cursing Mello under my breath the whole time. I made my way to a corner of the woods where I always smoked. It was far enough away from the house I knew Roger would never see me.

I was only out there for a few minutes before I caught sight of a familiar figure trudging through the snow, headed in my direction. I couldn't help but smile as I watched his blond hair being whipped around be the fierce winds.

"Miss me?" I asked, a smirk on my face, once he reached my side.

"Just hurry up. I'm cold." Mello spat. I knew I would pay for this later, even though it was his own choice to come outside with me. I appreciated it, though, so I didn't say anything.

It was things like this that made me love Mello even more. Even after I found out that Mello loved me too, I kept smoking. It was just a horrible habit by then. After that, he became more persistent in his efforts, but I kept doing it. I didn't realize until much too late that when I smoked, I was not only killing myself, but killing him too.

But that doesn't matter anymore either. I can smoke as much as I want and the only person I'm hurting is myself.

And it's not Near's job to stop me.

Mello was always the one who tried to get me to quit, which is another reason that I couldn't stand Near telling me I shouldn't smoke so much. If Mello couldn't get me to stop, Near sure as heck wasn't.

Actually, I'm pretty irritable right now because I can't smoke on the plane. I just yelled at the flight attendant for offering me something to eat.

Maybe I just need to get some sleep. It will probably help pass the time. I just hope I don't dream about Mello again. I hate waking up and being reminded that he's not here anymore.

But I _am _tired…

Maybe if I'm lucky I won't dream at all.


End file.
